


Paint the Town

by wordlesscaptain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16858894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlesscaptain/pseuds/wordlesscaptain
Summary: College AU. Every senior art student is required to put together an art show at the end of the year to graduate and you couldn’t be more excited. However, your excitement dwindles when last minute changes are made and you’re forced to share your art show with a random student.





	1. Chapter 1

The distinct smell of oil paint and turpentine filled the air. You breathed in deeply with a smile on your face. Boy, had you missed the smell of all of those chemicals. You didn’t have the chance to paint at all during the summer because of your summer job, so you were more than eager to get a brush in your hand.

You opened the door to the painting classroom and picked out an easel that you would claim for the rest of the year. The easel—and everything else for that matter, the floor, the walls, the shelves, the sink—was covered in splotches of color. Everything showed a glimpse of all the other artists that shared this space before you.

You were no stranger to this room. You had left your fair share of paint scattered across the room. Although, you couldn’t necessarily point out a specific speck, you knew your handiwork was somewhere. It was comforting to know that this room held a piece of you in some way. 

Soon your professor began the class and went over the syllabus and general goals for the semester. Being that this was an advanced painting class only for seniors, the overall goal was to work on pieces for your individual art show at the end of the year. You had been looking forward to that art show since freshman year. You constantly ran through different ideas and concepts for pieces you could put in the show and now all of those ideas could become a reality. It was an opportunity to finally showcase _your_ talents without the distraction of other classmates. In a way, it was a chance to prove to the faculty and your classmates that you had grown as an artist over the years. It was definitely a daunting task.  Reserving the gallery, installing the paintings, promoting your show, and then actually having people to show up was nothing to laugh at. Not to mention, creating enough artwork to fill an _entire_ gallery space.

You had heard horror stories from previous art students before you who hadn’t gotten enough artwork completed and weren’t allowed to graduate. It wasn’t a surprise that happened to students every year. Being seniors, students were left to their own devices. They were expected to motivate themselves and keep up a consistent schedule to get the work done. You didn’t consider yourself to be a lazy person, so that eased your worries.

Your professor ended the class by instructing everyone to bring blank canvases, brushes, and paints to the next class in addition to a few rough ideas for your individual art shows. You already had a million ideas buzzing around in your head and you couldn’t wait to bring them to the next class.

You picked up your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. You made your way out of the art building and started walking towards your apartment when you felt your cell phone buzz. You looked down at the notification on the screen.

_NAT: Wanna get lunch?_

_YOU: Sure!_

_NAT: Meet us at the quad._

_YOU: Us?_

_NAT: Wanda’s joining._

_YOU: Okay! See you soon._

You shoved your phone in your back pocket and made your way to the main part of campus. Once you reached the quad, you looked around for any sight of your redheaded friend. You saw someone waving their hands frantically and smiled.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey,” Natasha and Wanda said with smiles as they engulfed you in a hug.

“So, where do you want to eat?” you asked the age old question.

“I know the perfect place,” Natasha smirked.   

—

“Ugh, this was such a good decision,” you groaned into your burger.

“I beg to differ,” Wanda grumbled, poking around at the fries on her plate with a fork.

“Burgers are an American classic. What’s not to love?” Natasha asked.

“The burgers are fine, it’s the people that work here that I have a problem with,” she explained.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you love the waiter more than the burgers,” Natasha smirked.

“You knew he worked here, didn’t you?” Wanda accused. Natasha just shrugged.

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Wanda had been crushing on a guy named Vision ever since freshman year, but never had the courage to make a move. They had the same major and a lot of classes together, so they saw a lot of each other. Natasha pushed her relentlessly, but Wanda never budged.

“C’mon, Wanda. It’s our senior year!” Natasha exclaimed. “We have to make it memorable.”

Wanda shook her head. “Y/N, help me out here,” she pleaded.

“I don’t think I can,” you shrugged.

“You’re right,” Natasha said. “You’re in the same boat as Wanda.”

“What?” you asked through mouthfuls of your burger, your brows furrowing.

“You’ve spent every year of college so far in that damn art building.”

“Yeah, that’s where my classes are,” you retorted.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “And this year, your _final_ year, you decided to move into an apartment by the art building. Which is a good 20 minute walk from the rest of campus.”

“I don’t see a problem with that. Most of the senior art students move there their final year,” you responded.

“You’re so far from the rest of civilization. You’re going to be cooped up in that art building all year and miss out on everything else happening on campus,” Natasha explained.

“I asked you two if you wanted to move in with me, and you said no, so-”

“We couldn’t move out there,” Wanda interrupted. “You know who lives over there.”

“Art students?” you replied flatly.

“No, the frat boys.”

Oh, right. The frat boys. You had momentarily forgotten about all of them. It was the beginning of the school year, so they weren’t out in full force yet. But it was true, the apartment you chose to live in for the next year was surrounded by fraternities. They called it “Frat Circle”. There were about five fraternities clumped together and your apartment was located in the heart of them. You thought you’d be able to endure living there if it meant you were close to the art building. All you really wanted was to be close enough to your art studio so you could work tirelessly on pieces for your art show.

“Do you remember what happened the last time you went to a frat party?” Natasha asked.

“No, because I’ve never been to one,” you answered.

“Exactly,” she responded.

“You’re going to die out there,” Wanda added.

“Well, I don’t plan on interacting with any of them so I’ll be fine,” you reassured.

“Oh no, no, no,” Natasha scolded. “You _have_ to interact with them. How else will you make your senior year memorable?”

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure I can find a couple of ways that don’t involve sleazy frat boys,” you replied.

“You’re no fun,” Natasha huffed.

You shrugged nonchalantly and focused on finishing the rest of your burger. Now that the conversation had died down, Natasha and Wanda did the same. You three sat in silence until Natasha spoke up.

“You know, there’s got to be at least a hundred guys living over there. Just talk to one. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Nat-”

“Y/N, I-” she paused. “Listen. I just don’t want you to look back years from now and regret not doing more.”

You sighed. She was right. You had really only focused on school and didn’t do much else up to this point. There was absolutely nothing wrong with focusing on school—that was the whole reason you were at college in the first place. But maybe she was right. If you looked back, would you be disappointed with yourself?

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Wanda has to talk Vision.”

“No-” Wanda whined.

“Deal,” Natasha beamed.

—

You were now a couple of weeks into the new school year. Classes had finally picked up and you were extremely busy, but the good kind of busy. It was manageable and not too overbearing. You enjoyed that you could finally get back into the rhythm of school. You were making great progress with your senior art show as well. Your professor had looked over your initial thoughts and ideas and helped you form a cohesive plan. Since you had gotten everything finalized, next week you were allowed to actually start on the paintings for your show. You were just itching with excitement. But that all changed when you opened your email and saw there was an email marked _urgent_ from the art department themselves. That was never, ever a good sign.

You took a deep breath and opened the email, reading it slowly.

_Dear Y/N Y/L/N,_

_We regret to inform you that due to an administrative error, senior art students will no longer be able to have individual art shows at this time. To accommodate the error, we have decided to pair each student up with another student. The faculty and staff have worked hard to match students whose artistic styles and strengths would complement each other._

_We are pleased to announce that your partner for your upcoming art show is **Steve Rogers**. Please reach out to them at your earliest convenience. _

_Sincerely,_

_The Art Department  
_

Well, that was a surefire way to ruin your day. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Who the hell is Steve Rogers?” Natasha inquired.

“This guy,” you huffed as you pulled up his profile on your phone and showed her the screen.

“Ooo, he’s cute,” Natasha wiggled her eyebrows. Wanda nodded in agreement with a small, smug grin on her face.

Sure, you agreed with them. He was conventionally attractive; tall, blonde, and blue-eyed with an athletic build. From the pictures on his profile, you couldn’t tell if he did a sport or not, but he definitely looked like he would excel at anything athletic. He wasn’t the type of person you would expect to be an _art_ major of all things. 

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Natasha stated.

“The problem is that I have to completely change everything I had planned for my art show. And, not to sound selfish or anything, but now I have to _share_ my show with some guy.”

“Oh, come on. He can’t be _that_ bad,” Wanda offered.

“He’s a frat boy.”

“I stand corrected.”

“Which fraternity is he in?” Natasha asked.

“Uhh,” you started scrolling through his pictures to find the answer to her question. When a picture of him with Greek letters plastered on the front of his shirt popped up on the screen, you turned your phone back to Natasha. “This one. I don’t know what those letters mean.”

“Alpha Phi Omega,” she spoke.

“Alpha pie-whatever, I don’t know. He’s in a fraternity. That’s what matters. I’m doomed.”

“Wait,” Wanda spoke. “Isn’t Alpha Phi Omega in Frat Circle?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Oh my God, it totally is,” Natasha announced, waving her phone back and forth. She handed her phone to you and you looked at the map on the screen. Sure enough, you saw ‘Alpha Phi Omega’ just steps away from your apartment.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” you groaned, handing Natasha her phone back.

“I think,” Natasha hummed, “that the universe is looking out for you.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

“It’s like the whole boy next door scenario. Or would it be the girl next door?” Wanda voiced.

“Just give him a chance,” Natasha suggested. “He looks nice enough in his pictures.”

“Yeah, most frat boys do. That’s how they get you.”

“Remember, you have to talk to at least _one_ of those frat boys this year,” Natasha nagged.

“Well, I don’t really have a choice so I’ll meet my quota real fast,” you pointed out.

“I should’ve raised the bar higher,” Natasha shook her head, clearly disappointed in her choice.

“No,” you pointed a finger at her. “You can’t go back now. One is enough, trust me.”

“Just let us know when you do talk to him and then someone,” Natasha nudged her elbow in Wanda’s side, “will have to finish her end of the deal.”

—

You didn’t have to wait long for the opportunity to meet Steve. The following morning, you found an email sitting in your inbox from him. You opened it, biting your lip in nervous anticipation.

_Hi Y/N,_

_My name is Steve and I am a fellow art student. We’ve been paired up to do our senior art show together. I’ve seen some of your paintings and am very impressed by your work. The way you capture different emotions through various colors and brush strokes is truly remarkable._

Wait. He had seen some of your work? He _knew_ you? You had never seen him before in your life. Had you missed him in passing at some point? Or, since he apparently had seen your work, did you have a class together? Your mind was reeling through the past three years of college desperately searching for an answer, but coming up empty. You shook your head and continued to read the email.

_I am excited that we get to work together. Would you like to meet sometime this week to discuss ideas for our upcoming art show?_

_Best,_

_Steve_

You sat for a moment, staring at your screen with a blank expression. How were you supposed to respond to this email?

_Hi Steve, I have no idea who you are but apparently you know who I am and I don’t know if I should call 911 because of that?_

No, no. His words didn’t seem hostile or threatening. He actually complimented your work, so that was a plus. He _seemed_ nice. But you couldn’t necessarily take that at face value. He was a frat boy after all. Underneath all of those flowery words could be an egotistical man whose only goal in college was to drink shitty beer, sleep with any girl he could get his hands on, and somehow obtain a degree without actually going to class. You had to be careful.

_Hi Steve,_

_Thank you for contacting me about getting together to discuss our upcoming art show. I am available Tuesday or Thursday this week. Mornings work best around my heavy class schedule. Would you like to meet outside the coffee shop in the art building?_

_-Y/N_

Short, sweet, and to the point. You didn’t gush over how he had complimented your work, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. You also didn’t bring up how you had _no_ _fucking clue_ who he was. You were hoping you would be able to piece everything together before you had to meet him. You also made sure _you_ suggested the location, because who knows where he might’ve taken you. You wanted to meet somewhere familiar and public. You just hoped he would agree. If he really was an art major, he wouldn’t have any problem with the meeting spot you chose.

You closed your email and packed your backpack with the supplies you needed for the day. You decided to head down to the art building early so you could get a cup of coffee and relax a little bit before your classes started for the day.

You walked out of your apartment and locked the door behind you. You began your dreaded walk through Frat Circle. Although, at this time you had learned that the walk wasn’t terrible. It was far too early in the morning for anyone in the fraternities to function. You tried your best to leave every morning early to avoid any annoying obstacles. It was the evening walk back that you hated the most. They were always out in packs in their yards playing some sort of makeshift game of volleyball with a lopsided net or sitting in lawn chairs drinking beer and talking much too loud for your liking.

The silver panels of the art building greeted you with open arms. You heaved open the heavy glass doors and made you way down to the coffee shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the air and you started to feel energized already. That coffee shop was truly a blessing. It was open early and didn’t close until 8:00pm. It was perfect for people whose creativity flowed at all hours. And the fact that it was located in the art building itself was definitely a godsend.

You ordered your coffee and waited patiently. While you were waiting, you watched as other students made their way through the building. Being that it was a Monday, a lot of students carried various new supplies for the week; drawing pads, canvases, portfolios, supply boxes, you name it. It was a nice reminder that it was a new week, a fresh start for creative energy.

The barista called your name and you brought your attention back to the coffee shop. You took the warm cup with a smile and placed it on the counter next to the cream and sugar. You added what you needed to make the coffee just right for your liking.

You left the coffee shop and headed to the seating area close by. Just as you were about to make a beeline for an empty seat, you heard someone yell ‘Look out!’ before you knocked into something hard. At the impact, your perfect cup of coffee erupted all over the front of you. You stumbled backwards until you felt yourself run into a table, causing you to come to a halt.

“Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.

You blinked a few times before looking up. A pair of cerulean eyes filled with concern met yours. It was him. _Steve_. He was definitely _way_ more attractive in real life. His pictures did not do him justice. His eyes were so much bluer and they held so much warmth. You could stare in them all day.

“Uhh,” you you looked at him, trying to regain your composure. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you gave him a slight smile.

“I’m sorry I ran into you,” he apologized. “I was trying to avoid that person with a canvas and didn’t see you,” he nodded towards the stairs. You looked out to the main lobby and saw someone carrying a enormous canvas up the stairs.

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“Can I at least buy you another coffee?” he gave you a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, you don’t-”

“Please,” he urged, “I insist.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he took that for a ‘yes’ and darted towards the coffee shop. You sat down at the table you had run into just moments before and took a breath. Glancing down, you noticed the unmistakable chestnut splotch that adorned your shirt. You ran your hand across it, feeling the warm, wet fabric. At least you smelled like freshly brewed coffee.

“I have an extra shirt in my bag I could lend you,” Steve’s voice greeted you again as he set down two cups of coffee. He lifted his backpack off his shoulder and placed it on the chair in front of him. He unzipped it and started digging inside his bag.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. Thank you, though,” you gave him a slight smile. You were honestly astonished at how nice he was being about the situation. He offered to buy you a new cup of coffee _and_ borrow his shirt? Was it all an act or was he really a genuinely nice person?

“Are you sure?” he asked, pausing his movements. You nodded. He smiled at you before placing his backpack on the floor and taking a seat across from you.

“This is for you,” he placed a cup of warm coffee in front of you.

You took the cup and placed your hands around it, enjoying the warmth. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for making you wear your first cup,” he joked.

You laughed, glad he was continuing to make light of the situation.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked. You nodded. “Okay,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.”

“And you’re Steve, right?”

“Yeah,” he smiled with a nod. “I, uhh, I actually emailed you this morning. Turns out we got paired up for our art show.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “I emailed you back.”

“Oh, you did?” he reached for his phone and took it out of his pocket, looking at the screen intently. “So,” he let out a little laugh, “Tuesday or Thursday works best for you, huh?”

“Yep. I would’ve suggested today, but I didn’t think you’d be available last minute.”

“It appears you were mistaken,” he gave you a friendly smirk.

“I guess so,” you laughed. “Does Tuesday or Thursday morning work for you at all?”

He nodded. “Want to do Thursday?”

“Sure.”

“Same place, same time, but with less spilled coffee?” he asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great,” he beamed. He glanced down at his phone and back to you. “I unfortunately have to run. The Renaissance period is calling my name.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you Thursday.”

“See you then!” You watched as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards the stairs with his coffee in hand. He looked back and gave you a small wave before disappearing up the staircase. 

 


End file.
